Helping Beth to Die
by BumbleLellie
Summary: Beth Greene wasn't made for this world of death and generally ugliness, and she was prepared to finish something she started back on the farm, only she's going to need help. And who better to help than a biker redneck with a strong enough stomach? Lovely bit of Bethyl! Thank you all for your support! xxx
1. Chapter 1- One and the Same

**One and the same**

Chocolate is a classic way of cushioning blows, a universal symbol of 'you're not going to like this'. But this was different, this was good chocolate- this was 'I'm sorry I slept with your sister and you still forgive me' kind of good chocolate. It was a joke, I thought immediately, followed closely by someone's died. My father perhaps? Maggie? Judith?

Fear swelled up inside but I did a classic Daryl and kept my face stoic. Of course you can't use Daryl's tricks against Daryl. He raised a hand onto my shoulder and forced my gaze into the electric blue. ''Everyone's fine.'' His voice was gruff and knowing, and I felt myself ease up a little as the tension dissipated somewhat. But then why is Daryl Dixon giving me luxury chocolate? ''Just cause you deserve it, kid- Beth- girlie.'' He answered, damn that Dixon intuition.

And she did deserve it, he thought. Little he knew about Beth, probably the least out of everyone in the prison. She came from the loving home and stereotyped bible-bashers that should have alienated him from her entirely, yet he couldn't bring it within himself to deny there was underlying similarities. She was him in a different world. A world where your father doesn't hit you for the piling debts, your mother signs herself to her own fiery death with nicotine-stained fingers and your brother leaves you for a different woman each night. Only her father abused her in a different way: babied her, and made sure the mollycoddling prevented her growing up -making it so she couldn't fend for herself. And her mother, she had died too, twice. And Maggie had Glenn now, the childhood bond between siblings was broken.

Yes, they were the same he decided, but her heart was unaccustomed. And they dealt with it the same way, he could see her manifesting into herself, guilt ridden and meek. The soul was draining out of her and the only thing keeping her alive was her stubbornness.

How long can someone go without love? And how could he, a man who had been denied any comfort in his youth let this happen to her? So he brought her chocolate. Girls liked that kind of shit according to Merle, best way to tell them that no you don't love them, never have, never will, and never did, apparently. Perhaps it would console her for this too.

He wondered if he should tell her all this. But in his head it sounded stupid, and he was a man who spoke few words to few people. He didn't ask how Judith was, she may well have been Beth's child but he wouldn't let even his precious ass-kicker destroy this girl's individuality. He didn't ask how she was, because his sudden interest in other people's welfare did not extend to teenage girls crying on his perfectly good shirt. Besides she wouldn't tell him anyway. She would do that small closed mouth smile that forced itself upon pained eyes and nod and say something vague, and everyone would believe her and take in the façade. How much time has he spent watching her?

Looking at teenage girls wasn't a regular pastime of his, but with the secure location and lack of alcohol to numb his, and Hershel's, quelling anxieties, he could tell you most things about someone.

No one ever thinks the redneck can read someone. He had been sat in the food hall the first time he had paid attention. There Carol was playing mother dishing out a variety of the usual broth-stew substance, holding people's hands and asking about their day, replacing her little girl with a handful of adults. Rick sulked a faraway glazed look over his eyes, stress radiating off his as he thought of Lori, making even Carl sit with Glenn. Glenn engaged in childish antics, loudly boasting about his comic collection to Carl, trying to revert back to a safe place. Carl was having none of it, pouting at being treated like a child but actually feigning his disinterest in comics, Glenn could sense it too so he kept rattling away as Maggie made puppy eyes with a smirk that promised later attentions. Women. He made his way through everyone.

And there she was, bouncing the little ass kicker on her knee, making burbling noises at the giggling child. She was how she had always looked, happy in her unplanned parenthood, calm and sweet. Sweet little Beth, who looked only just 15, despite her years. He didn't think twice about it. And then Carol came over and held out her arms for the child, leaving sweet helpless Beth alone. Somehow without the baby her entire story changed, she looked grieved with years. She wasn't a kid. Her eyes dropped and the smiles stopped as she pushed food around her bowl, glazed eyes waiting for something, slowly wasting into nothing. He had seen her with that downtrodden look, and there started his fascination with watching Beth.

He learnt that although she would sing Judith to sleep, she was always talking to her, he would hear the whisper of an old childhood story about Maggie or Patricia between movements through the cell block. He saw how she would walk down to the library and take out a new book every day, be it on farming or laws, he supposed she wanted to distract herself. She always tied her hair up, but on speculation he was convinced she slept with it down, as she would be pulling her blonde hair up into a hair tie that left a red ring on her wrist as she left her cell to breakfast each morning.

It was getting to the point of obsession. Her smile got more and more fake each day, and so came the day to do something about it. Daryl left for the run alone, going on his brother's bike to escape the four grey walls. He supposed somewhere deep in his subconscious he felt uneasy at the prison from Merle's abandonment in his own young adolescent life, and couldn't bring himself to believe she was going to be the same. It wasn't a long drive, a couple of hours to a small town, the walkers were few and slow in their starvation. Summer was thawing out the cold weather that was slowing them down, flesh that had rotted in the Georgia summer heat and then frozen off made them more misshaped than those from the start. As if they could get worse.

The local grocery store had been looted, but as usual a shelf of baby supplies went untouched alongside a few other items, tins, snacks and the like. Daryl headed to the next store and whistled in the door way to attract any walkers inside, with no answer other than a stray walker fumbling toward his from across the street- quickly dispatched with an arrow- he entered. In a previous life the store had been a posh deli, the type the kids with non-hand-me-down clothes' parents might have gone into. The little stores with organic eggs and fancy meat counters. As expected the looting hadn't gone as far as here, no one needed fucking salami in the apocalyptic world. Even so there were a few shelves of tins: refined beans, creamy spinach mash, hell even caviar.

A little while along there was a dusty corner of 'Chocolat d'Amour' with sad abandoned love hearts, neglected cherubs and tearaway truffles all made of chocolate. He thought of Beth. Then he dismissed her. Then he thought of Merle. Then he swore and picked up the most non-romantic nearest to cell by date slab and shoved it in the bag. Women.

And here he was in front of me, offering me chocolate like we were in some fucked up love story, but I could see it in his eyes. He knew.

Judith began fusing in the other cell, and I excused myself to see to her. I returned few minutes later, baby on hip, to the empty room. The chocolate was on my bed, stark in its glory of monochrome packaging and fancy script, there wasn't even a word for it in this world. Back in the old days, I had never gotten a gift like this, this was the sort of opulence reserved for wedding gifts and affairs- it was a luxury then. But nowadays luxury covered anything from toilet paper to a golf magazine. Judith patted my cheek with her chubby little hands and I realised I was staring and smiling at the bed. I was smiling. It felt wonderfully foreign and equally terrifying at the same time, and before I could explain what was happening my tears were spilling over. The sharp tug in my gut made me slide to the floor, sobbing into little Judy as I rocked her back and forth close to me.


	2. Chapter 2- Asking Daryl

**So here is chapter two, I hope it's an alright read, there's more interaction in this chapter I suppose.**

**Asking Daryl **

I knew what I was going to do, had known for a while, and I was tired of fighting this. But I also knew that I needed help, and so had to find a willing participant. My family were out of the question, the Woodberry folk weren't trusted enough to leave the prison and the Grimes' wouldn't even contemplate it. That pretty much left Daryl. The problem was he was sort of intimidating, and had some weird self-code for himself, if asked him, and he rejected...well it would be 'put Beth on watch she's gone crazy again, let's all treat her like a china tea cup!'. Besides, I had no idea how to even approach him.

And then he surprised me. He came to me and gave me that sweet chocolate because he knew what I was feeling. He obviously understood, so he would understand my wishes, wouldn't he? No, I'm sure he would, and if he said no he'd keep quiet. I'd make him promise me.

His reaction was less than encouraging.

''You want me to help you top yer self? That's yer favour girl?! Shit! Beth- what are y-how can you even ask me that?'' His voice was loud and I was shushing him. I had found Daryl the next day in the watch tower, under the pretence of coffee, I had snuck up here. I had been planning for a quiet conversation where I'd slowly bring him round to the idea before telling him-well, that. Only I'd gone and blurted it out like a school girl on first sight.

The next thing I did was burst into tears. Fuck my life. Daryl looked at me like I was giving him a Chinese burn. Torn between running or not. He pulled me into him roughly and sat me down against the wall with him. He sighed, probably unsure how he got himself into this mess. We sat there for some time, me just needing to cry, him just wanting to comfort me. I could've missed the question.

''Why?''

I made a disgusting sniffle noise, and looked at him through blurred eyes. ''I can't do this, I wasn't meant for this- _this_!'' my arms gesticulated wildly, great going Beth. ''I need out. I saw my mother, my brother, Patricia, everyone die in front of me. I don't want to go that way and I can't kill those things even if they are dead! I don't deserve to be here, it hurts so much and I-I can't fight any more than I am!''

I went resigned back to my sobbing, pitying my inability to choke out meaning to this guy I barely knew. He was never going to help me now, I sounded like a spoilt child kicking the toys out the pram.

Daryl shook his head as she left. Stood up and punched the concrete wall. God help me, he thought bitterly. As if he needed any help from a god as screwed up as the one who forced him into this world. He wouldn't do it- couldn't- she didn't want this. If there was no Beth where was the hope for the rest of them?

Once again he spent dinner watching the group, it was becoming a habit. Both he and Beth managed to act totally normally, he had to give credit to her acting skills. His stomach turned and he tried hard to not stand up and yell something at her, but despite her earlier tears she looked exactly the same. How often did she break down like that, was this due to practice?

Beth sat there, blonde hair resting over her shoulder and she clapped lil ass kicker's hands together making her giggle. He could hear soft coos of 'who's the prettiest baby?' from where he was sat. Rick came over and sat next to Beth, asking something quietly, to which Beth nodded and did that damn smile again, and she passed over lil ass kicker to her father. It had never occurred to Daryl how reliant Judith had become on Beth being her mother figure. Her chubby cheeks frowned over Rick's shoulder as he took her away.

He loved ass kicker, and he respected the people who took care of her, top of that list -Beth. And they needed Beth to be that mother figure, her and Carol, for the whole prison. But Carol had been abused for years, her heart was hardened to tough realities of life, she had lost everything. Beth was still young and sheltered, her entire life consisted of staying in the prison waiting for her family to die. And it was wearing her down.

Back in the old world Beth would've become a mother, she would be in a happy relationship where they'd have a family meal every night with home grown vegetables and her children would be perfectly groomed. She would have a chance to have everything he always wanted, and that had been taken from her, and that was somehow the worst thing about this world.

Two days later he found her with the children, looking at their scribbled drawings and praising them with glowing cheeks. For the first time she seemed in her element, bouncing Judith on her knee whilst softly telling stories. She looked up at him stood in the doorway, and needing nothing else she nodded and turned to the children. ''Let's all settle down for a nap, alright?'' a small boy held onto her hand and she knelt down so he could whisper in her ear, she nodded at him and looked him in the eye, ''nothing's going to get you, it's light outside- and look, you have Daryl to keep you safe, we're right here'' some of the other children let their tenseness drop as they helped hand out little blankets on the hard floors, all obviously frightened, and he couldn't blame them. Children had always been afraid of the dark, now there was a reason for adults to be too.

Beth sat with her back against the door frame, facing the room with unwavering eyes, keeping her babies safe. She knew he was here to tell her the decision.

''You said you need my help, with what- I won't do..._it_…for you'' his voice was gruff and low as to not disturb the children. Beth grimaced to herself.

'''Course not. I wouldn't ask that. It's too dangerous to do here. I just need you to drive me somewhere.'' Her voice was light and confident this time, as if the idea of death put her at some weird form of peace. But he wouldn't be asking if he wasn't considering, maybe she hadn't blown her chance.

Her eyes had only looked alive when she spoke about this, and it sickened him. But who was he to deny her choices that belonged to her. The irony, though, that even when wanting to take her own life, everyone else came first. ''Where then?'' he played along in this sick business exchange, trying to act like it didn't twist his gut for some inexplicable reason.

''The farm'' she quickly glanced at him as he shook his head, and urged a quick whisper, ''I know it's overrun and dangerous, but it where momma is. Just drop me off and tell them I got bit on a run.''

This was way too planned already. Like she had been waiting to find someone, and he had volunteered himself with that fucking chocolate. He hadn't known she felt this strongly, figured it was a phase. But as she stood up to quieten a stirring Judith he could see the jagged white scar on her wrist form the last attempt.

He came up behind her, his weight bearing on her back so he could talk into her ear,''If you're sure this is what you want, I'll do it. Nothin' I do is gonna stop ya, anyway- but I don't like it. But you gotta do somethin' for me.''


	3. Chapter 3- Rick's Recovery

**so thank you everyone for reading, and especially to those who are wiling to give advice via review. enjoy.**

**Ricks Recovery**

Make a list of things to do? A list? What was this some cliché film?

I wasn't even sure why I was angry at this, he was helping me. But he was also dragging this out for another month because 'eighteen is too f-ing young to not do everything'. I was happy to go, but I knew Daryl just wanted to wait it out to see if I waver. I wouldn't. Ever the optimist I thought it through, things I had always wanted to do, and were still possible for me.

I got to seven. He'd have to make do with that.

I wrote them down in a small notebook and folded the paper into the slats of the top bunk.

Daryl was once again leaning at the door, just staring with cold eyes. His head told him to look away when she bent over the bed and stretched showing the creamy skin of her back. Well that settled it in his mind, Beth was not a girl anymore- she was definitely grown up. But still he checked himself for looking in the first place and coughed so she spun around quickly.

She did that damn smile at him and asked what he wanted sweetly. He shook his head at her,

''stop that, right now girl'' her puzzled look made him back track, ''you don't lie to me. You can tell anyone else that you're ok if you wanna- but me- no you tell me the truth'' his gaze was so piercing that there was no choice but to look into their depths and nod. The smile dropped off her face like it was the plague, and the big blue eyes shouted out the curiosity she was physically restraining by biting her shiny lower lip.

Standing this close he could smell the sweet scent of cherries that reminded him of some childhood sweets. He almost wanted to apologise for his rough tone, but he was a Dixon and Dixon's don't care. He was stood close to her again, intimidating her subconsciously by his height and build. Daryl shook his head and backed off a little, cooling the tension between the two of them.

''What we tackling today then?''

She nibbled on her lip, looking up at him thorough thick lashes. He sighed loudly.

''List, what's first on your list?'' he scratched the back of him neck thinking.

''You mean, oh, um well go on a run? That's sec- I mean it's second not first but yeah" she breathed out quickly, searching his face for any kind of response. He hated thinking that she was almost bizarrely endearing when she acted so unsure.

''That needs serious approval from Rick, what's third?''

Beth was outside the prison, knife in her hand, dancing from foot to foot in anticipation. She was going to do it, this was the day.

It had been months since I'd left the gates of the prison, since we first arrived here. It was weird to be out here holding a weapon and not a baby. A sense of dread crept up on me, but it was being drowned by anticipation, was that how everyone felt? Did Daryl get this feeling when he went out hunting? I looked at him, he stood there posed and relaxed, his eyes closed. Daryl was calmer here in the woods, where I felt tense and out of my element, Daryl was swimming. Even so I knew he was listening to every rustle of leaves and protecting me, doing it to the best of his ability.

I knew what I had asked him was selfish and dangerous. He'd come home to the wrath of everyone here, and it would further alienate him from the group. He must now that, and all he had done is nod and ask one thing off of me. And here I was.

''How have you not had to do this yet?'' his voice was sudden and made me jumped.

''I'm extraordinarily well sheltered?'' I teased, but his dead-pan expression made me tell the truth, ''walkers were just sick 'til you came to the farm, not dead, after that I was on suicide watch or looking after the baby. But I always wanted a go at being Maggie, going out and taking 'em down.''

''Yeah, well here's your chance, make her fucking proud'' he nodded toward a rogue walker limping slowly towards them.

Its body was rotting and disgusting, its hands outstretched as if wanting a hug. A pang of pity ran through her spine as she tightened the grip on the handle of the knife, she could do this just like Maggie. Beth ran at the monster and attempted to sing the knife in its head, she missed and got its neck. Dark blood splattered at her and she fell in surprise, the walkers ambling on top of her snarling and biting.

Shit. And arrow pierced its head and the body stopped struggling, he went over to haul it off Beth, pulling her to her feet. He was waiting for trembling or tears or even screaming. What worried him more was the absence of any of those things. Beth looked shocked, and then she turned and spit, turning to grasp at the rucksack he was holding.

''Water.'' He got it and twisted of the top, Beth gulped, rinsed and spat again. And then she said the most unexpected thing.

''Crap! I got that fucking shit in my mouth- oh my god- eww'' she kept making gagging noises and Daryl couldn't help but laugh at her reaction, he had her pinned as a little kid for far too long. Beth watched him laugh at her, and after a moment joined in, she doubled over and he clutched a tree for support.

Tears streamed down their faces at the inappropriate giggle session, inevitably it drew attention of a few walkers. Feeling already closer to this blonde little woman, he held up his cross bow pointing it at the next walker. This one was once a woman, dark hair round her face like some kind of horror film and one heeled boot on her foot, yeah, he thought she was probably one of the first to die.

''Aim higher, through the eye, keep yer goddam mouth shut this time'' he growled.

She had the audacity to wink at him this time, before turning and running at the walker, she got the eye first time but hadn't applied enough pressure. In a flailing panic she rammed into the zombie using the momentum to land on the corpse pushing the knife through the tissue into the brain. She struggled getting the knife back, and Daryl almost wanted to help, but it was too damn entertaining.

It was getting dark and they'd done what they needed to do. Beth and Daryl started walking back, a new spring of pride in her step, which he couldn't help smile at. He was getting soft, what would Merle say? Beth's voice was soft as ever, and it was hard to imagine she had run her mouth like a sailor at any point.

''Takes it outta ya' don't it?'' her southern accent was thicker in her tired stupor, ''must be hard being a badass 24/7.'' He realised she was talking about him, and smirked a little at her tinkling giggle. ''Y'did ''good for a first timer.'' Why was he complimenting her, Dixon's weren't nice to no one. Still. It was nice to see that rare shine of life in her eyes again before it glazed over.

''100 more and I'll be rivalling Maggie.'' She was confident and joking but her voice had a thick quality to it.

He didn't know why, or if he wanted to, but the non-speaking Daryl Dixon started small talk for the first time in his life. He made her laugh at the recounting of their day, teased when she tripped on the forest floor and told her how to get a knife out a walkers head. Before his eyes Beth became a real person he hadn't known existed. And for a moment a world where she wanted to die didn't exist.

Running back in thorough the prison gates at half-light, all the children ran up with Maggie and Carol. Judy pushed out her arms determined to be loved and wrapped fat little hands round Beth's top. As usual no one came up to him, but he got a nod from Hershel for bringing his daughter back unharmed.

Dinner that night was louder than usual, Beth was laughing loudly and talking to Maggie and Glenn, and she even hummed as she got her father a second helping of stew. It was possible that this could be a turning point, the list idea would work and she'd realise what there was to live for. But that moment of perhaps was ruined.

Rick Grimes had been struggling a long time with guilt and seeing undead visions of his dead wife. It had been months since he stepped down from leadership and instead milled around in the garden tending his pig. But today he had had a revelation. He had to spend time with his children, so he talked to Carl and went over to Beth asking to see her a minute.

Leaving the dinner table, Daryl slowly followed to eavesdrop unabashedly on Beth and rick. Rick asked Beth if she could move all Judith's things into his cell, and that he was going to do it all from now on. Beth asked a few questions politely and told him that of course she would. He got ready to follow when she walked away but was stopped by literally stepping into Maggie, he apologised and started to go on his way.

''Daryl?'' Maggie's voice had that same accent, but lacked the honey coated sweetness Beth had mastered so innocently. He just looked at her waiting for her to continue.

''I don't know what you did with Beth-''

''Whoa woman I didn't do nothin'- who's sayin' I did? Jesus she's just a kid'' Daryl stepped up to her threateningly, fists clenched and ready. Maggie looked up wide eyes and shook her head.

''Not like that. Just at dinner, you must've seen she was all bubbly and, and receptive. I know you don't understand the sisterly bond -but she let me hug her – it's been months'' Ok, so maybe the sister wasn't as unobservant as he had first had pinned.

''She used to be like that y'know.'' Maggie continued, ''funny, talkative and pretty- real favourite of the guys I tell you that, used to wish she'd shut up for a minute. Now though- she ain't been the same since momma, who would be right? But, thanks Dixon- for takin' her, looks like the air did her good.'' She punched his arm playfully and walked back toward the dining hall. And Daryl couldn't pin why Maggie was so much more annoying than Beth, when she gave a fuck, and Beth didn't.

Daryl just stood in the hallway thinking what Beth would have been like in a normal world. He had always thought she was quiet and reserved, but that was obviously a side effect of her depression. She had opened up to him today, started chatting excessively when excited, and been pretty quick with the jokes and teasing. He didn't know why he cared so much. Oh please, stop lying to yourself, she reminds you of everything you wanted and you want her to have it all still so you can dream about belonging somewhere. You can't blame everything on your father. With one as bad as mine was, you can.

He heard a grunt form down the cell block, it was empty except for Beth, so he cautiously moved in. Beth was furiously shoving little items of clothing into a bag, pulling butterfly drawings of the wall and piling them on top of the home-made mobile. Tears streamed down her face and a look of pure hatred swelled her features. She turned when she saw him there, her chest heaving but body frozen.

After a moment she growled in frustration and moved over to him, screaming out insults as she continuously hit his chest. Daryl let her take out the anger on him for a moment.

I was hitting Daryl, fuck I had a death wish or something. His strong hands wrapped round my wrists pulling me into his chest, where I gave in and whimpered like a wounded animal.

''He's taking my-my baby'' which was ridiculous cause Judith was never mine.

''After months he can't just come in and demand her'' but he could, he was her father.

''I can't live witho-out her!'' but I had for 17 years.

Daryl's arms were around me, obviously unsure of what to do for a moment. Finally going with it he shushed me, pulling me into him and rocking me slightly.

Great she was crying again. Grimes was a dick, he decided in that moment. Even so that glimmer of life had existed as more than a flame today, Beth had been living for a whole two hours. She could get past this. And he wasn't going to help if she wasn't totally certain.

''Beth?'' he whispered into her hair after she had calmed down a bit. He had sat them down and she was pulled up on his legs, arms round his neck silently shaking. He had to stop this teenage girl crying on him thing.

''Yeah?'' her voice was heavy and monotone.

''You still sure you want this?'' he mumbled to her. She sat up, wiped her eyes and looked at him. Going from a little girl to a grown up in 5 seconds.

''Number three, kill a walker is done.'' her voice was cold and decisive. But it hadn't answered the question. As if hoping to sense some trepidation he continued.

''Beth, we can stop this just say the word.'' He hated how needy his voice sounded, and as if thinking the same she sighed using her fingers to pinch her temples. ''You just ask Rick 'bout that run alright?'' That still wasn't an answer.

''Beth?'' He snarled exasperated at her childish response.

''What?'' Her voice was sharp and bitter. And her choice turned his blood to ice.


	4. Chapter 4- The Trips

**So, exciting chapter! (she says about her own story). But seriously this chapter is a bit longer, and personally it's my favourite one yet. There's a lot of action and a bit on beginning Bethyl to happen, thank you all so much for reading, particularly those who send reviews.**

**The Trips **

It had been hard to disagree with Daryl, for some unknown reason the guy glared at him the whole time. He had walked into his cell holding the bassinette of Judith's things, dropped them on the floor, and demanded that he and Beth go on a run in a few days' time. Said it was character building. Then Rick swore he heard Dixon call him a bastard before he walked away.

Daryl found Beth the next morning skipping breakfast and setting up the nursery area in the library for the children. Beth and Carol maintained that education was vital to at least problem solving and reading, even in this world. Personally, Beth felt it was more important to pass on the heritage of a non-apocalyptic world.

''What books are there here for kids anyway?'' His voice made her flinch this time, and she turned to him, tilting her head to the side.

''You'd be surprised, a large percentage of prisoners are poor at reading so there are a couple of learn to read books, other than that I endorse the classics.''

They looked at one another for a few minutes, unsure of what to say or do since her melt down last night. Daryl turned to walk away but Beth called out,

''Please stay, just 'til the children are here- I don't, I can't be on my own.'' If it were anyone else he'd call them a wimp, if not worse, and storm out to prove a non-existent point. But it was Beth, and she said please. He leant against one of the book shelves and watched her flip through the books to judge their respectability. Daryl realised he had seen more of this girls weaknesses than anyone else.

The lil cherub-like boy was the first to arrive, his mother said something to Beth and the blonde haired kid unwrapped his arms from her and onto Beth making her carry him. She asked him friendly questions about his dreams and his breakfast, smiling at each answer he whispered in her ear.

When other kids arrived the little boy ran over to wave at his friends but didn't say a thing. Daryl walked over and softly asked her as question.

''what's up with him?'' he nodded to where the kid was listening to everyone else giggle and shout jokes only little kids understand at one another. Beth's eyes glowed with sadness and love.

''His daddy told 'im to be quiet before he was bit, took it to heart I guess. Only speaks to his mum, a few months down the line he began whisperin' to me too.'' He could see that pride on her face again, and absently thought that if he only spoke to two people she'd be one of them too, kid had good taste. He wanted to tell her that the kids loved her, and killing herself was going to break their hearts. But she already must have known that, and it was a real penis-manoeuvre to bring up. She'd probably cry again, and he was running out of dry shirts.

The little blonde boy sat on his mother's hip, waving a small pink hand, as Beth waved goodbye from the back of the motorbike. Her jeaned legs were fixed tightly against his thighs, and one hand was already wrapped snuggly round his waist, this girl had way too much liberty with his self-imposed isolation- in fact he was 90% sure she did this on purpose.

The drive out was long but sunny, the air felt fresher than the staleness of the prison or the decay of the yard. Had she often gone on motorbike rides with rednecks, she would have almost believed it was just like old times. The trees blurred past in green vivacity, and the grey road stretched out to the ends of the earth. It was freedom, and all the little things didn't matter. Beth's face rested on Daryl's back to avoid the wind and her hands were tightly gripping his shirt, he was here making promises come true and for a moment she wanted to live for him. But you can't be alive just for other peoples benefit.

Number 2) Go on a Run.

Merle's bike may have been liberty on wheels, but like its former owner, it was also obnoxiously loud. However the speed of the bike ensured no walkers could actually keep up with them, so despite their exposure and noise, they were safe as punch.

The small town was nestled in between woods and large hills, its high street was full of faded signs and rust that had settled long before the apocalypse. The old pencil factory suggested a small community thriving on one business, the type of place where everybody knew everyone else and used the same old retired man year after year to play Father Christmas. A run down town, thriving on hope that the economy for pencils would pick up, not too different from the run down town Daryl grew up in.

The old shop doors were aging wood, however, and would be easy to kick down without much noise or difficulty. The inhabitants had probably been thin and worn down, no match for a sudden flux of the attacking undead. There was the very probable chance, however, that there might still be lurkers out there, or even worse armed survivors, so Daryl walked close to the buildings angled away only to shield Beth.

The first shop they entered was dusty and unused, Daryl checked the floor for disturbances, but the lock they forced open was true to its implications. Beth peered round his shoulder and shivered either at the draft from the door or from the neglected ruin of what was normalcy for most of her life. The shelves were stocked with a few non-perishables. They managed to fill the old backpack, and rested against the bike.

''Looks like the only grocery store. But the clothes stores could have some shi-stuff we could use'' Daryl's voice was low as he continuously checked the landscape for threats.

''Daryl, where are all the walkers?'' So she'd noticed too. The truth was he had no idea, so he just shrugged of the question as he shrugged off his own uneasiness. Clothing of necessity found its way into the saddlebag along with anything useful: string, batteries and tools.

They were loaded up and had yet to see any walkers. Daryl and Beth decided to do a quick run round to see if anything had been missed, which with Daryl's meticulous manner, was not likely. Beth wandered to the last shop, it was full of glass ornaments and china, nothing of use. The building was on the corner of the street, and as she exited, Beth heard light shuffling. Peering round the corner, her eyes bulged at the sight before her. A crowd of walkers were crawling over each-other to reach the torn body of some large animal, or god forbid human, feasting on the innards. Beth felt her stomach churn and she was caught between gagging and screaming, when a hand clasped over her mouth. Daryl pulled her into him, trapping his other across her slightly, still holding and pointing the crossbow at the group of ignorant walkers.

He stepped back carefully pulling her back round the corner with him, her eyes were fixed in front of her staring at unforgiving imagery. Someone wasn't going to sleep tonight. When they reached the bike, Daryl remained silent, and let her go. He moved her arms to place to backpack on her, tying the belt round her small waist. He pulled her behind him, and she managed to move her legs enough to get on the bike.

They rode for a small while, back into the unforgiving wilderness. Then Daryl stopped the bike, grasped her fingers from his shirt and prised them off, she jumped as if not realising that they had stopped at all. A log served as an impromptu seat for them both. Beth shook her head as if clearing it of all thoughts. She looked at him, haunted eyes slowing going back to normal as she looked at him. Then all of a sudden she sighed, putting her head in her hands.

''I'm not cut out for all this- I just see it being Maggie or Hershel or-'' she swallowed, ''you.''

It amazed him that she was still thinking about everyone else, not herself, and the only selfish thing she had asked him was the most negative of all choices. He made sure she wasn't going to throw up after her shock, before finding a can and opening it to share.

''What it is to be wined and dined by Daryl Dixon'' she muttered while scooping out some cold ravioli. He smirked at her resilient stubbornness that signalled the end of her recovering.

Deep in his own thoughts, Daryl made a promise with himself: this girl was getting whatever she wanted, and he wasn't going to let his temper or feelings get in the way of her choice, no matter how badly it hurt.

The alternatively ate the cold pasta, feeling the weight in their stomachs. Once finished Beth wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and reapplied that cherry lip gloss.

''Why do you do that?'' he surprised even himself for blurting out his thoughts.

''Do what?'' she looked down at herself suddenly looking what he meant.

''that lip stuff, ain't like nobody's gonna kiss ya'' he winced at the blunt harshness, and saw her forehead crease a little bit, before her slight smile as she shook her head.

''Ain't like that. Reminds me of the farm, Jimmy got it for me on a run with Maggie for my birthday, along with some shampoo and stuff. After I tried- after I-'' she held her wrist subconsciously, but the movement was enough for Daryl to insist she go on. ''Gave it to me early, to cheer me up. Damn simple boy he was, but he cared a whole lot for me. It's the only thing I have left, t'was in my pocket when we ran. I can honour him, he never got a funeral, I know it's stupid but-'' his quick glare and subtle shake of his head ended her soft excuses. ''That ain't stupid.'' He clapped a hand on her shoulder, thinking about what she had lost in Jimmy. He hadn't ever given the boy much thought. He was pretty, educated, nice and popular, the Greenes' were looking out for him where his parents couldn't. And that made Daryl pretty jealous. Even in this world of shit, that boy had a second family, where he had had none. Vaguely he remembered Beth crying into Hershel's shoulder when they lost him, and how she hadn't done that with Zach. Would he be a Jimmy or a Zach? Then he scorned himself for even thinking that, they didn't have that between them, besides she was planning on going first.

They talked a tiny bit more, before clambering onto the back of the bike and driving back to the prison, like nothing had ever happened.

Number 6) Camp Out

''So what does this campin' trip entail, Sunshine?'' Daryl's voice was rough velvet as it ever had been, as he glanced across at the blonde girl panting slightly at keeping up with his wide strides in the forest. ''Well, I guess the regular teenage camp-out, the kind daddy never let me go to. You know s'mores, beer and wild sex under the stars.'' Her voice was light and casual, her shoulders shrugged under the light cotton of her blouse. But as a master at her responses, he noted the slight tinkle of her voice and raised eyebrow that blatantly said 'I'm kidding'.

''Dunno about 'wild' was always a slow and romantic type meself'' he glanced across at Beth as she stopped walking mouth like a goldfish. A moment and she had collected herself, smug expression on her face. ''I always took you as a love 'em and leave 'em type'' she nodded toward a stray walked stumbling across to them.

''What can I say? I'm a tender man'' Daryl savagely plunged his knife through the side of its rotting head and ripped it out covered in sticky black blood.

They walked in casual silence, their feet hitting the floor in equal quietness like he'd taught her. Maintaining the pace and mood of their own little world, the two stepped toward an open clearing. This place had once been an enclosed pasture for cattle, but with a few walker-traps and reinforced latch on the gate it was the safest bet for a camping trip. A small stream fed across the flat grass and the landscape melted into trees on each side.

Beth sat picking daisies and singing softly under her breath, as Daryl insisted on walking the perimeter alone. From every angle he could see her lying there, swaying her knees in time to unheard music and fiddling with something. When he came back he discovered a ring of daisies on her head, like how five year olds do, sitting up with her chin jutted into the air.

''You may call me queen.'' Her voice was forced and posh, so he threw a backpack at her, pushing her over with the force.

''There you are, princess, set up the poles.'' He could almost hear her mutter of 'I said queen' and he bit back a smile, taking the rope to tie the fence shut. He came back to an almost fixed up tent, Beth with a hammer and a series of swear words.

He laughed at her, none too politely, and she whipped round to glare at him. The cold slate eyes narrowed at him until his chuckling stopped and he help up his hands in mock surrender. Daryl made to sit down, pulling out a water bottle and gulping a healthy amount. Beth shifted up next to him. Her eyes were back to the large and innocent, eyebrows dropped in the way that women do when they want something. Women. Her fingers lightly pinched his arm, and she bit her lip.

''Hey, you know we can do number five today too- well, maybe.''

''Maybe?'' he lifted his tired eyes to hers, as she nodded as if to continue.

''Fly a kite, only-'' Daryl cut across her brusquely. '

'You ain't got one, you can't make one neither?'' His eyebrow quirked above those bright blue eyes.

''Well, umm, yh'' her voice was soft and anticipating, her breathing shallow.

The kite Daryl forced together was made of sticks, tied together with emergency string and flew in the wind with the very shirt off his back. Fuck, he really was getting too committed to this girls smile, she made him literally give the shirt off his back so she could dance and run in the sunlight for one last glorious summer. And he didn't give a fuck.

Once again there was a fleeting thought back to the past. The first, and only woman, he's jumped through hoops for only a smile for was Cindy Bloomen. She was a grade above him, but nevertheless he spent Valentine's Day finding her a bunch of red sidewalk flowers and settling them in a jam-jar of water. Cindy had smiled and let him touch her breasts under the bleachers, so maybe not only for her smile. After that he had hooked up with women pretending to be interested in his truck, or actually interested in his biceps. Merle had always picked up chicks with the bike, but Daryl had no time for obnoxious displays of heroics or the time to bed every women willing to open her legs in a ten mile radius. But it had never meant anything, and he didn't give a toss if those women were smiling with him or not.

His memories were cut short by her out-of-breath singing:

''Let's go fly a kite and send it soaring! Up through the atmosphere, up where the air is clear! Oh, let's go fly a kite!'' He would have asked what the fuck she was doing, if her eyes didn't have that damn shine in them. So he instead, watched her dance around under the colours of the shirt and giggle in harmonious discourse with nature.

''Just like what I thought it'd be y'know- like the end of Poppins.''

Somewhere hung in the air was the question of how far back this particular activity dated, but looking at her reverting back to a carefree child. And here they were acting like 5 year olds. He sheepishly stood holding tight to a chance of happiness, hands both wrapped round string. She dancing round in carless abandon, knowing no pain, arms wide open letting everything in. Daryl let himself watch her spin and sing and dance in the bright sunlight, feeling every bit of fear dissipate into calm collected content. But the sun began to lose its blinding hue.

They finished up with the tent, and the sky slowly went dark, leaving only the small orange fire and LED torches. They had had a heated debate over the pros and cons of dried pasta packets to the tinned variety, form both the perspective of old world and new. She had resigned to telling him she won for being a queen, after his logical explanation of lumpy pasta powder. The soft glow caressed Beth, her eyes were heavy with relaxation. Here in this field they were indestructible.

''So campin'? That's the teen thang y'miss?''

''This shit went down a month 'fore my prom, won't wear no dress but the one me and momma altered together.'' She shrugged, ''graduate is on my list too''. Her voice went into that reminiscent tone that generally panicked him, so he rooted into the back pack and threw a packet at her, pulling out a bottle after.

''Marshmallows and whiskey are the new s'more and beer, didn't cha hear?'' His face settled into a smug smirk at the sound of Beth's bark of laughter. He unscrewed the bottle and took a sip, it was the best of merles personal stash- but wasn't like he was going to need it now. Beth was busy recycling the beloved kite's skeleton as impromptu skewers for the marshmallows.

Daryl passed her the bottle, and she gently brought it to her lips, swigging it for a gulp. The fire that burned down her throat scorched her tongue and made her eyes water. After a few (hilarious-to-Daryl) faces, Beth weakly coughed out a joke about old Hershel and his rightful assumptions of alcohol being the devils hot, spicy water. Her eyes crinkled at the remainder of the new pain and less hilarious memories of her dear daddy's drinking problem, and Daryl would lie if he wasn't thinking the same about his own father.

They ate the marshmallows in stony silence, but neither touched the bottle again. The atmosphere shook off any uneasiness between them, as his unspoken promise to not let a moment be wasted by purely his emotions was inevitably compromised.

''Daryl?'' her eyes begged for his approval before continuing, ''do y'think there is a God?''

Daryl looked at her large blue eyes. He didn't believe in God, and wouldn't in any God who put him through so much shit for entertainment. God hadn't stopped his father beating him with a belt, or found evidence to avoid merle going to juvie. But he couldn't tell her that, her entire life had been turned upside down and he wasn't introducing another lie. It didn't seem Beth needed an answer as she continued anyway.

''Do you think he's going to forgive me?'' the most disconcerting turn in this mood was the detached faraway look she was giving him, like deep in thought and still a thousand miles from any understanding. He almost wished she'd cry so it was vaguely normal- but heck, what was normal about what they were doing.

Daryl stroked the back of his neck with a rough hand, chewing his lip in thought.

''If He forgives anyone, it'll be you, Beth.'' And he meant it. Her eyebrows creased and she nodded, murmuring a soft 'thank you'.

''Sometimes I think God gave us you as compensation for all this'' her eyes found his, still further away from him than the real inches between them, but closer now.

''Pretty shit compensation then.'' He bit back, and she smiled gently shaking her blonde head.

''You can keep us safe, fed- happy. You care more than you let on, Dixon.'' And before he could say something smart about protecting his 'badass-ery', as she had started calling it, he saw her lean in and all the air went from his lungs.

Their lips met tentatively. Her soft eagerness negating everything his conscience was telling him to do, which was push her off and high-tail it out of there. She was too dangerous, too risky, and, fuck, far too soft. Not for the first time in his life, Daryl Dixon couldn't restrain himself. But after all these years it wasn't his own anger and frustration pushing him, but a woman.

Beth pushed herself nearer to him, wrapping a shaky arm around his neck, bringing his in closer. That damn cherry lip gloss filled every sense he had, and with a soft grunt he pulled her back in, deepening the kiss. Beth was, or so he expected, supposed to be angelic and innocent. There was, however, one problem with this theory and that was her sharp nibbles at his lower lip, pleading for more. So he gave her everything he had.

The stars littered the perfect dark blue of the Georgia sky as they pulled each-other onto the soft grass, continuing their ministrations. His rough hands rested on her rosy soft cheeks, and whatever she wanted he was willing to supply. Her small murmurs and moans were like oxygen, so he kept kissing, holding her flush against him, showing her everything. Daryl had never been a man of words, but as a man of action he felt positively lost in this small girls lips.

'There are the stars, so where's the wild sex?' He mentally chided that dormant part of him that edged him on. This was Beth, not some woman in a bar. This was Beth Greene, the innocent bible-loving baby-sitter, the prison's sweetheart, the princess in the tower. But the way she bit his neck was anything but innocent. She's only eighteen. But, she's obviously more than willing. I'm helping her to die. Maybe, this will change her mind. He swore at his own sick perversion. And as if not sensing any doubt from him or herself, Beth began undoing his buttons.

Sure, she had seen his back, seen everything he had to hide. He had been topless earlier when flying the kite, and she had healed various scrapes along the months they spent together, but this was different -this was intimate nakedness. Her top was next, and it was soft skin against his hard muscles. He kept her close, breathing in her sweetness. And she clung to him, almost for a moment looking like she was drowning as badly as he was.

Her small hand trailed down his stomach and they reached the point of no return.

Daryl stormed around the field, shoving things into bags with little care. When she had woke this morning, he was gone from her side, leaving her cold and alone. He had been found sat outside, watching the horizon with unblinking eyes. He didn't respond to her voice, and tensed at her placing her hand on his shoulder. He sat there still for at least an hour. Daryl was more than mad.

He was questioning everything he had done. Why couldn't have stopped himself before it got that far? He had ruined Beth Greene. Taken advantage of a little girl who didn't know anything, and somehow make her think she wanted it. He was so angry at himself. Angry, didn't even cover it. He wished Merle was here to beat him for what he did last night. Maybe he'd be lucky and Hershel or Maggie would find out and do it for him. He had stood up and started walking back and forth, calling himself an idiot and trying to avoid looking at her presumably disgusted eyes.

''Ain't nothin' to talk 'bout, right? Just part of the list, you don't owe me anything.'' Her voice made him slow. Beth looked up at his pacing form, tight with tension and regret. She shrugged off the emotion and made it part of her short life, a memory, an experience. She didn't have to live with it, she realised, but Daryl did. As if on cue his volatile stance gave way.

''That's right- it don't mean shit, lil' girl'' He jumped in too quickly, negating the calming 'counting to ten' idea he had in his head to control his temper. That hadn't meant a thing to her? When to him it had meant- it was easier to be angry with her, that at himself for being such a damn old pervert. He was literally the paedophile his brother got put behind bars for beating into a coma back in 2000. But no, she kissed him! But you kissed her back, the little voice taunted mercilessly.

''Oh piss off, Mr Cranky-Pants. I ain't tellin' anyone- just two friends who drank too much an' needed some comfort'' her tone was offhand and soothing, ironing out all the creases in their friendship to end any obscurity. Once again he watched Beth put on her fake face to head back to the prison, and they both wished she could leave it off for a day or two, but that wasn't the case. The whiskey bottle was pushed into the rucksacks, still full to the neck of the bottle.

''It didn't mean shit.'' He repeated, more to himself, since she had already stalked across the empty field toward the gate. And he hated himself for saying it, and her for feeling it, and he hated himself for not meaning it. With his head hung, and shoulder squared, Daryl fixed on his mandatory stare and caught up to talk more pasta politics with the girl waiting to die.


	5. Chapter 5- The List Completed

**So this chapter is less dramatic than the last, to be honest it feels a bit like a filler chapter, but it has important implications- I promise the next chapter will be better!**

**The list completed**

''Why did I have to make this list?'' She thought furiously, throwing her backpack on the bed on her cell. Last night had been a total screw up on her part, letting herself force him into that. The poor man not wanting to upset the suicidal teen. For fucks sake, she may as well take a page out of Daryl's book and punch the concrete wall. Only as she did, she bent over jumping and cursing in pain.

''Bethy?'' he father voice was full of concern, and startled Beth jumped up sheepish look on her face. Did he hear me swear? She looked at her hand, no blood, all attached.

''Just caught my hand on the cell bars, daddy.'' She smiled sweetly at him, like she once did when she wanted a night out at her friends. She held it out to him anyway, craving comfort but also evading the inevitable fight. Her father's knowledgeable hands ran over them prodding at the sensitive skin. ''How was the camping?'' And she fought the smile dropping straight to the floor, he mind racing for any kind of answer to give him.

''Did you know Daryl got lost in the woods when he was little- four whole days?'' She got a raised eyebrow in return and frankly wasn't surprised after _that_. ''I didn't sleep too much, ground was lumpy and we had marshmallows to roast I guess-I need a good nap.'' This seemed to placate him, and Hershel stoked the back of her head fondly in a loving gesture, before limping out the room.

She was tired. It wasn't another lie. And so she lay herself on her lumpy bed, which was much more uncomfortable that that beautiful meadow, her eyes fluttered closed near immediately.

Daryl woke her later with his soft creeping into her cell, her eyes opened on instinct and narrowed at the bright light beaming through the high windows- afternoon.

''What's up, buttercup?'' Her voice was groggy and unsure from sleep, and he looked at her surprised at her spryness. He bit his lower lip, as in thought, and she sighed. Great, here comes another rant about yesterday, and he'll spoil it all.

''What's next?'' And after a few moments of ignorant confusion, he added, ''on the list.''

She was glad of the topic change and that for once in his life a Dixon seemed to actually let go of a grudge because of the unconvincing acting of a young girl.

''I want to graduate. Number seven.'' Her voice was sure and unwavering. And he looked at her like she asked to be turned into a man for a day. Eventually he nodded, lips in a tight line and stormed out the block. That was his thinking face.

As thankful as she was that Daryl Dixon was not mentioning the way she blatantly forced herself onto him, albeit that he was not a very reluctant partner in crime, she wanted to talk about it. There was something mesmerising about the feel of his hands on her skin, even as innocent as rubbing small circles on her back. Something that made her nervous to be around him, afraid of being snapped in half at the weight of one of his glances. She wanted more, and she wanted it never again at the same time, and it made her head spin. Trying to find the cause of this need and fear was going to drive her to an early grave, pun not intended.

Turned out they just studied a lot over the next few weeks. He gave her books to read on a certain topic from the limited options they had in the library. After she had done the work he instructed he would hand her a test on a piece of paper for her to answer as a 'final'. Life in the prison was quiet as ever, and due to her normal cleaning and babysitting jobs, it wasn't hard for Beth to work around her chores in order to read material. As lame as it sounded she was loving having something to do, to work for, even if it was meaningless.

It wasn't meaningless on Daryl's side. He had gone round everyone to speak in private, bringing up their school life to interrogate about the curriculum. So they all knew exactly why Beth was happily humming along in her books. Maggie was the most helpful, alongside Glenn she was the nearest to high school age, and had even attended the same school as Beth started. She was also the most eager to help, Beth had always loved school, mostly for the social aspect but she wasn't dumb either. Each book was carefully flipped through in the watch tower and questions noted down, he wasn't a well-educated person himself, but he was determined and Carol even sometimes helped him.

It ended up as ten different subjects, stretching from maths, to classic literature and even an in-depth study of anatomical questions (mainly sourced for Hershel's brain). The idea caught on with some of the older kids like Beth who wanted to know more, the handful of teens were soon cowering up to Daryl asking for his help.

But Beth was always his top student. She'd come talk with him about the books at dinner, he learnt she loved Huckleberry Finn and Austen and other prissy writers, but she'd also witter away about how interesting the instruction manuals for the generators were -and that he should take a proper look alongside Glenn to fix them so they could have hot water.

Just as Beth as learning a lot about the old defragmented world, Daryl was learning about her. When she read she would twirl loose pieces of hair around and sing the words very softly under breath so she might come across humming. Her foot would twitch violently when she disagreed with a text, and run in smooth little circles when she agreed. She was also very, very funny. The two of them were known as the quiet pair, and most the time they were happy to sit in silence doing their own thing in silent company. He'd clean his crossbow, or make twig arrows for his quiver as she read, and occasionally they'd share a thought or a funny idea.

When the day came that she did 'graduate', he managed to roll it up with list item number four. Go to a party. Everyone came to the dining hall that night, expect a few Woodberry people on guard, all of whom traded shifts with the original group to be there for Beth. Daryl wondered what it would be like to have that support, even if he couldn't see that most the support Beth got was from him and very much reciprocated.

Beth was dressed in her best shorts and a floating white mesh shirt over a vest top, around her shoulders sat a crudely dyed sheet as a makeshift gown. She looked pretty with a real smile plastered to her face, and the rawness of her beauty knocked silence into everyone before a few tentative claps. Rick had been forced into role of presenting and appreciating Beth, no accident either.

The majority of the people here would think that it's because he was the natural leader, and Dixon was too shy and aloof to speak to the small gathering. But Daryl knew Beth needed to hear something positive about her role from him- Rick the baby stealer- as he had childishly started calling him in his head.

A night off was all they all needed apparently. The tension of so long with no accident was shook as music started playing through an old battery powered CD player. The children danced around merrily, the blonde boy holding Beth's hands and stepping from side to side with a big grin on his face, rivalled only by her. Fucking Hell. He couldn't take his eyes off her when she swayed so innocently perfect to the old 90's songs.

Everyone was laughing and talking about the old parties, for the next hour or so and he couldn't blame them. Daryl stood sipping precious (watered down) cherryade against the wall, doing his usual observation of everyone, eyes flickering to a certain blonde more frequent than strictly necessary- but hey, it was her night. But the lack of alcohol, good snacks and non-cringe-worthy music didn't bother him in the slightest. Was he sick for enjoying this party more than any he'd been to in the past? Once upon a time, he'd watch his brother take drugs, drink too much and awkwardly stumble home with some dolled-up tart who was as abused as he was. But here, this place was filled with familiar faces, ones that didn't want him dead. And it was, he reluctantly realised, filled with family, who depended on him and wanted him around.

He needed out, his head too foggy with this sudden realisation of power. Of course she noticed he was gone and slunk out to meet him. She leaned against the railings with him, watching the end of his cigarette light up his face.

If it was anyone else he would tell them to fuck off or if he liked them he'd give them a glare and walk away. But he told her everything in his head, like she wasn't a real person, she invaded every part of his defence systems so he just told her, and she nodded in understanding.

''I get it, when Rick said that I was, oh what was it 'a brilliant asset and gift to these children'- I felt like crying and laughing at the same time.'' He could hear the implications of her words, she hadn't forgiven him, but the Judith blow was somewhat recognised.

They were so close together he could see the small plaits on the side of her head reading round to a bun like a crown of golden thread. Her cowboy boots softly rubbed the mud in small shakes, and her lips were right there. For now, that little voice said.

And suddenly he was angry, angry at her for playing this game. He was used to her now, he should've taken her that very next day to the farm, left her before he was attached. Because that wasn't at all suspicious. And even now she seemed to sense his pain, putting a small hand on his wrist she pulled him into an awkward hug and swayed a little. Only then he realised she was getting him to dance with her. He could smell her, and she him. And the topic surrounded them, waiting to be brought up. ''When are we going?'' her voice was light, as she pulled his flat hand round her back. Where? To the farm.

''Fuc-for god's sake there's gotta be more to do 'ere?'' He was harsh and biting, but she didn't mind because she expected these mood changes now. It couldn't be easy, and she felt the change of emotions too.

For anyone outside looking in, it looked like a regular conversation between two dancing people. Perhaps a little could be read into their friendship but the gravity of their discussion was well hidden. ''The list is done, Daryl.'' And he hated the way she said his name, like she gave a real care about any of them. But a rise of bile in his throat told him he was unprepared for this, it couldn't be so soon. Graduate, party, run, kite, fucking camping.

''Five not seven.'' It wasn't a real argument just a panic, and as ever she shook her head gently as if he were a child and corrected him, but that didn't piss him off it just made him want to hold on tighter and dance with his two-left feet and tragic heroine until the dead stayed dead.

''Six and the last ones something I can do on my own.'' And he didn't ask, and she didn't expand.

''Alright then, little girl, let's make plans to go.'' His voice was tight and he moved away, striding back inside, after throwing the cigarette butt to the concrete gloom. He gave one last unguarded look to her, his blue eyes flooded with unreadable thoughts, before glazing over and pretending not to care. That unspoken connection between them was unravelling fast, and Beth and Daryl felt the ache of words they didn't know to voice.

And it was over.


	6. Chapter 6- The Farm

**I'm astounded at the support I have gotten from this community on my first story, so I hope you enjoy this next chapter! review if you can- I always need improvements.**

**The Farm**

Children are strangely insightful creatures. He'd never set much store by them before, his own childhood had seen him grow quicker than what was really necessary, but these kids- it was like they were fucking psychic.

He was sat there cleaning his crossbow, getting ready for the trip, when he felt the small tug at his shirt. Looking round quickly he looked into the deep brown eyes of a small boy with a yellow mop of hair, he vaguely remembered him being the kid who didn't talk to anyone but Beth and his Woodberry mother. The little boy pulled himself next to a sitting Daryl, and Daryl couldn't help but be impressed at this kids guts.

''Keep Beff safe.'' Was all he said, but Daryl felt those wise eyes bore into him, daring him to not bring his Beth back in one piece. There were no words to lie to this little kid -no- so Daryl hung his head, stood up and walked away.

Beth was in her cell, looking round and taking it all in, she looked across at him and smiled. Somewhere in the last month he had lost the ability to sneak up on her unsuspectingly, and somewhere in that time he had grown used to her sixth sense. So he put up a hand in greeting.

''Ready to go?'' Beth only nodded, and sighed. She picked up her empty rucksack and started to walk, but felt Daryl tug her back.

He stared into her eyes, unfathomable but confident, and he nodded. Who knew fucking chocolate would bring him this of all things, if he had known would he have picked it up?

He could have been blissfully ignorant of the extent of this girls pain, could have bought back into the mask of 'fake' Beth. He wouldn't have screwed her around. Wouldn't have had to lie countless times to everyone, which was something he never felt comfortable doing. Wouldn't be teaching all those freaking tweens their ABC's. He wouldn't have this heavy gut now. She made him do it all, because it's what she wanted.

But that chocolate had given him something too. Gave him interaction with the group, it alleviated his pain and his thoughts. He no longer sat alone for hours a day. He had someone who understood his humour, and his past. He had an extension of himself. And that extension wanted to die. But he couldn't regret any laugh, any smile, any thought about her. Women.

The goodbyes with her family had to be brief and normal. Which wasn't easy for someone saying farewell for the final time ever. Hershel tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear and held her hands in prayer for her safety, once again Beth's façade fooled even him. Maggie pulled her into a tight embrace and muttered something that made her, Glenn and Beth laugh. He left her to it.

Rick was holding baby Judith, and looked at Daryl, silently nodding in trust. Only Rick didn't know that Beth's life was already compromised at this point.

How was she doing this? The thought of her going was breaking his heart for these people, and he felt on the verge of breaking the secret. Yet here she flounced around joking with anyone there, knowing she wasn't coming back, lying about everything still. And he had to watch, never in all his life did he think that he would become the passive damsel in this situation, cursed not to speak by the saviour prince. And that sat heavily in his stomach.

The truck ride wasn't going to be silent and awkward. He wouldn't allow that, not after everything.

So as he pulled on the belt and pulled out on to the open road with her beside him, he turned on her favourite CD, which was the product of many a debate on these trips. And turned to her.

''What do you call a dead prostitute?'' It was the kind of rough joke he loved and sat for hours coming up with to make himself laugh. Beth's face was one of shocked repulsion and cheeky humour, to which she smiled lightly and asked what the answer was. He paused for dramatic effect and glanced across at her. ''A street walker.'' He couldn't help a broad grin forming at the sight of her laughter face, as her hand flew up to stifle the beautiful sound of mirth, they so rarely got to hear.

She said something about him being crude and incorrigible, but her giggles only provided the basis for an argument that she must be too. Daryl started telling her about the jokes some of the guys at the bar would tell him a couple of years ago, missing out any crass details the little bible-lover couldn't handle. She sniggered through her own anecdotes for a while, slowly the stories changed their course of action, and which for the most part provided little insight to anything deeply offensive or rude. He told her this and she gasped in mock offence, thinking about the crudest moment of her life.

''There was this girl called Miranda Hosgrave in my biology class, and we were partners for a while. She told me about how she did it at 13- 13, Daryl! Isn't that insane? And then she said that it hurt unless you felt something for the person. But when I-I mean we, when camping-it wasn't nearly as bad as they say!'' Her face was red and she was blurting out as if she couldn't stop.

His heart couldn't help but do that stupid backflip thing where it gave a fuck and made him think 'does that mean she feels something for me too?'. But, no, she didn't, and, no, there was not 'too'- he doesn't like her. Any more than he should he means. Like, yes, he told her things he hadn't told anyone, and they'd slept together and he caught himself staring at her angelic face in a sinful manner- but that was it.

After a while they fell in to a compatible end of their conversations, of which there were many. He listened to her sing, taking a break from talking, his voice rougher from the recent overuse. Even so he couldn't help his mind moving away from her cheery lulling tones into a darker part of his mind conscious of what they were doing. Why couldn't she stay for them? Weren't they enough for her?

She had her father, who she was closer to than anything in the world. They prayed together and she'd smile and act as she probably always had. The perfect youngest daughter. Hershel rested so much pressure on Beth without even realising it. He had once told Daryl how Beth was just like his late wife without even having her DNA, that soft strength and care for everyone else around her. Only he saw it as a positive, not as a negative as Daryl did. Beth never gave care for Beth, because he let her want to be put last.

Maggie. They had spoken a lot about dominating siblings, both of them being protected from a young age by one. Sure, Maggie could be impulsive and aggressive, but even Beth couldn't deny the desperation Maggie had to protect her soft little sister. The thing about Maggie and Beth is that they were two sides of a coin, total opposites but completing one another. Beth was the angel-faced to Maggie's hellcat routine. And she would do anything to look after Beth, crawl to the ends of the world and slap her until she saw sense, which is why she hadn't been told goodbye. But Daryl understood, Maggie was strong enough to get over this, possibly stronger without the distraction of protection, and never quite knowing if her sister can ever be the same as she once was. The Greene girls were strong and passionate, she'd step up, harden her heart- which could never be a bad thing in this world- and perhaps make her show her need for emotional support to Glenn. The bottom line was Beth needed Maggie, but Maggie no longer needed Beth. Even if need and want were total different things.

The Greene's had lost everything, and given as much as they all could. Including every mother Beth had. Her own mother of course died when she was little more than born, and then Annette had turned and been shot in front of the traumatised teen. It was a wonder Beth trusted anyone in that role, but she still let Andrea mother her briefly, and then relied so heavily on Lori. Only Andrea disappeared and Lori left her with a new-born making her a mother instead of really mothering. And after that Carol filled in that mothering role, all too happy to treat Beth like an older Sophia, another little girl to look after. Daryl saw the way Carol longingly stared at Beth sometimes, smiling at her childish sleeping face and making her experimental porridge with funny names. Beth would laugh and join in, but she had no attachment to any other mother she had lost too many. The only one she wanted to see was where she was headed.

Now of course that baby girl meant everything to her. None could, or would, deny that Beth was Judith's mother. Who else would get up all hours in the morning? Little ass kicker owed Beth everything, but Beth was going to be someone she never meets. And that seemed the saddest thing in the world for his little one, who already lost her father to insanity, mother to walkers and brother to arrogance. She wouldn't learn to count following the gently prodding and proud butterfly kisses of Beth, she'd have no soft arms to crawl into when thoughts of walkers were too scary, and no one would sing her so sweetly to sleep at 2 am just because her tummy felt poorly. Daryl could do what he could, but he was no Beth. So why wasn't the dependence of ass kicker pulling her away from this drastic decision?

And what was he to her? Part of a list that he had enforced, a few laughs and a friend. He felt like she was close to him, felt that pull like he did, she must have done. Or was he only a confidant because he knew, he knew her dirty little secret and so she had to put trust in him. No, it had to be more than that. He wasn't a father figure, or a sister or even Judith. He had no claim over her, had no right to say anything and so he closed him mouth.

He shook his head clearing it of thoughts, and looked at the dash. It was approximately another two hours to the farm, two having already passed. Half way, and she'd yet to even mention their actions. And it was every other thought of his.

She however sat seemingly without a worry, her legs folded up to her chin, pale and long in those small denim shorts. She swayed her head softly to the music, her fingers twirling in her hair. They pulled over for a minute, Daryl switched of the CD player and slipped out for a leak. When he returned Beth had laid out a little picnic. He looked at the small napkin-plate, a dainty cracker-and-peanut butter sandwich, a wrinkled small apple and a piece of swirled chocolate. Beth was happily munching her own lunch, smiling at Daryl. They ate the crackers and apple in silence, murmuring compliments about the stale biscuits and loose age of the fruit.

But when he got to the chocolate he looked at it perplexed and noncommittally, he didn't remember finding any sweets recently, perhaps it was one of Maggie's or Carol's secret 'we're girls you don't understand stash'. He had never been such a sweet lover himself, but food was food. As he bit into the chocolate the richness flooded memories back. This bitter, silk, then creamy taste was expensive, the kind you'd get in shops you find small tins of caviar for morning Melba toast. This was 'I'm-sorry-I-have-to-die' kind of chocolate, the kind you give scorned lovers. This was cushioning the blow in the universal way chocolate does. And Dixons were no women, but Daryl needed this right now.

The drive was still comfortable but tensions were rising. Beth felt the coolness of the window against her forehead and Daryl of all people had helped fill in their conversation. He was being wonderful, doing that unknowingly perfect thing that she needed without her telling him that's what she wanted. Her neck clicked slightly as she stretched, and she looped her finger round her hair tie pulling out her hair. She rubbed the top of her head, relishing the relief of her roots, before catching Daryl half-staring at her, but trying to focus on the road. His lip was in a tight line.

''What is it?'' She asked, looking behind her, seeing if there was anything in the window.

He simply shook his head.

Fuck, she was so pretty with her hair down, even more so than when it was pulled back. But when it fell in those soft waves around her face, she could have been a fucking singer like she'd always wanted- talent, body and face- the total package. The last time he saw it down it was dark, and they were in a tent and she was above him. But this time she was sat here, looking younger and more relaxed than any girl he had ever seen, like she was going to a masked ball or to the fairy kingdom. And anything that made Beth look so calm, was alright in his book, so he pulled onto the driveway of the farm.

One warm hand rested on her hip as the other pulled out her heavy knife, and threw it into the truck. After a moment he had gently replaced it with a thinner lighter blade. He rested his head against her forehead,

''It's thinner- sharper- so…'' he pulled his hand away as if it burned and avoided her gaze. His head still rested against hers, ''we should go say goodbye.''

Thank you. Her eyes said what she didn't, as she leaned up and kissed his cheek. He held her close to him for one final time, breathing her in and feeling her small arms wrap him in safety.

''It's all been said, one way or another'' with one less squeeze he reluctantly let her go ignoring everything his body was telling him.

And he felt colder with her gone, knowing she meant everything to him, and he meant nothing like that to her.


	7. Chapter 7- Number 1

**This isn't a long chapter, but it is the last, and I think I should warn you that it is quite sad, so please forgive me!**

**Number 1 **

And he turned toward the truck, his gut still tight and disappointed in the anti-climactic feeling he had. It should be fucking raining, or some shit. Over his shoulder he glanced back at the door she had gone through. Nothing. Not even numb. Had this last month not meant anything?

The farm house was cold and peeling, decaying in its old picturesque quality, just like its owners. The world was shit, and now it was shittier. And now he'd have to go tell Hershel his baby girl wasn't coming home. Daryl opened the door to the truck. Hershel was going to break down and cry, that or take his anger out on Daryl, who would happily take it. And Hershel's little blonde angel wasn't going to be reading him passages of the bible and slipping him meat off her plate to keep him going, the innocent girl who had grown up loving horses and singing concerts was never coming back.

Why didn't this bother him? Beth was as good as gone. She wouldn't be nodding at him in the hallway, or softly cooing to Judith at all hours, or making the prison seem anything but repetitious with even her 'honest' smile. He placed his hand on the open door tapping his fingers, as if waiting for her to run out changing her mind.

And Maggie, she was going to go ape, pull down anything and scream until she felt nothing inside. Guilt, all he felt was guilt for not feeling anything, as he pulled himself in and bitterly tugged the belt across.

And then with the keys in the ignition, his whole body jerked. Fat, hot tears rolling down his face, as a low moan escaped him. She was gone. And the pain was sharper than anything.

And she was everywhere. Her sunshine hair clung to the passenger seat, the crumpled list on its blue striped paper sitting on the dash, the sweet smell of cherry lip gloss lingering. And for one maddening moment all he wanted was to join her. She had been sure, he had given to her the only thing he could, her wish. Deny that girl nothing, he thought bitterly, but deny the rest anything. He didn't care anymore, but he knew he had to leave. He couldn't look at the blurred lines of the farm anymore, couldn't stand the path of her final steps and think about what she was doing. As if the knife she cut into herself, cut right into him. Fuck you, Beth, he thought.

The idea of forever was incomprehensible. He'd go back to the prison and she'd be there. Just like always, and he'd tell her how he drove her to her own death and she'd smile like it was some sick joke. That tinkling laugh, gone.

Inside the house was familiar and safe. Despite the damage of decay and ruin, the farm house stood tall in its previous occupants' left overs- certificates for swimming on the wall, childhood drawings and awfully twee family photos on the walls leading up the stairs. She looked at the blank smiles of the dead and dying, knowing she was to join the smiling blonde face of her mother soon. The door to her room had been kept closed during the chaos of months before and it creaked open in the same tune it always had.

Before all this happened Beth liked to believe she was normal, as she walked in that old feeling of relief after a hard day hit her. She wanted to walk over and grab her phone, start texting Jimmy and dance around the room. Only there was no service, no Jimmy and no music. Home had been the right choice, the only place for her to die. Beth locked the door behind her, locking herself in, so she wouldn't attack anyone when she turned.

The soft light of the setting sun hit everything, removing the dust and months of disuse. Her bed was unmade, laundry on the floor and a half-eaten mars bar was on the desk next to an open book. It made her think of the chocolate Daryl had gotten her. If only she had known last year that her framed awards and old toys would become nothing in this world, that the laughing, taunting faces of her friends in photographs only made her count how many must be dead.

He had never seen her room, and she thought in some way he wouldn't need to see it either, he knew about her childish fears and her thoughts, he knew what she could do and not without seeing a certificate. Still, she chided, he would have wanted to see it.

Looking in the mirror Beth frowned. Her eyes looked bulging and traumatised as her brain raced with unconscious paralysing thoughts. Candles lit. She knelt by the side of her bed, unconsciously choosing the softer carpet from years of practice. Uttering her prayers it was hard to believe that God could forgive her for what she was going to do, but she hoped he understood and let her see her mother and brother again.

''Dear lord, please look after my daddy and make it so that he can deal with loosing me, give him strength to carry on and keep his faith. Let him know I'm sorry and that I love him, tell him all things I was too coward to, please? Make sure Glenn looks after my sister, and give them your blessing and help Maggie to forgive me. And lord, save Daryl, make it- better- for him alright? And oh, Judith, my little baby girl, she won't remember me, but keep her safe. Amen''

For the last time Beth crossed herself. The preparations were ready, there was nothing left to do, and so she got onto the bed. Her hands shook with reluctance and protest, it wasn't this hard last time was it? No, it wasn't the time for doubt. It was impossible to be calm doing this she thought, impossible even. This is what she wanted. She worked so hard to get here, months of planning and need. The cold blade was warming with wait as it rested on her wrist. Salty tears stung her eyes as she banished all thought, focusing on the knife pushing it. The blade sunk slowly with the pressure, biting sharply. Focus on the knife.

The knife was a small blade, perfectly sharp and thin. The handle had a metal inlay and carved initials. Focus. MD- Merle Dixon. This was Merle's knife. Given to her by Daryl, the only thing left of his brother. An angry flash swept across her face as the thought of his playing games with her, getting into her head and trying to dissuade her. He wasn't even here. Fuck you, Dixon.

The knife kept biting, but the thought of Daryl was pulling her away. She was frozen. And suddenly it didn't hurt anymore to be alive, to not have a mother, or a brother or a God. She didn't want to be dead and not have a daddy and a Maggie and- and a Daryl.

In his own head this was ridiculous. Just drive away, you weakling. Fuck these fucking tears and leave this fucking ghost farm.

He glanced toward the solemn house, and kicked the ignition back to life, as he wiped the last of the tears away. The digital clock on the radio flashed 19:47, and absently he wondered how long he had sat there like a girl. He had lost everyone who he had ever let it, let them all down and they had all left him alone. He laughed sharply in bitter incredulously, feeling sorry for himself after basically assisting the suicide of a young girl. How the fallen had fallen even further.

Looking back again. And she was there. Fuck she was there! Staggering out the house, bloodied rag tied round the wrist she cradles against her chest. Not even thinking he ran out toward the door, her face getting clearer and clearer. Real, she was real. They stared at each other a million things being shouted and said with only one look, but the moment needed contact-and as much as Dixons didn't do comfort, he couldn't deny either of them a desperate embrace. Her one good hand clenched around his shirt holding him against her, as their breathing shook, both fighting off emotion.

They stood there some time, just holding and needing. The judgement that had never passed between them continued to evade, which she was thankful for.

''Beth?'' he mumbled into her hair, his voice soft and deep. She murmured back against his chest.

''Why are y'dressed like a fucking ghost?'' His soft voice almost hid the smirk, which she knew was only hiding a Dixon tactic. She scoffed anyway.

''I ain't. Prom dress, never got chance to wear it 'fore the walkers, remember'', she pulled away a fraction looking him in the eyes like all those times before, ''take me home?''

And he leaned into her, needing her close and alive, as she reached up her lips still cherry scented as she pressed them against his. And Daryl knew he had been saved by her.

Number 1) Be Loved

**So, I can't tell you how sad I am that this is over, everyone's been so supportive of my first attempt at writing on FF. Thank you all so much for reading, and please review so I can know what you thought. xxx**


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